On Stone Knives and Silence
by macrauchenia
Summary: Mordred and Morgause continued to repeat the first phrase like a broken mantra. Morgana's voice was clear and unwavering as she began the second and last part of the ritual. Arthur couldn't catch any of the words she said over the roar of the wind, the dying coughs of Merlin, and the loud background chanting of the other two sorcerers. -Merlin!Whump- -Character Death- -Angst-
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** On Stone Knives and Silence  
**Rating: **T - This one's pretty dark: character death, blood, angst, reveal, Merlin!whump...pretty much everything that makes you cringe/flail awkwardly.  
**Timeframe/Info About This Fic: **Takes place between Season 3 and 4  
**Disclaimer:** If I owned Merlin... Let's just be rational for a second  
**Authors Note: **This was most likely inspired by the morbid time (4:30 in the morning...) and the similarities I drew between the characters in Merlin and the Chronicles of Narnia. [10 points if you can guess what part in the movie I was _really_ inspired by] I dunno... I just I thought that Merlin looked a slight bit like Edmund, Morgana looked a little bit like Susan, and Arthur looked pretty similar to Peter. And then there's the whole Lancelot and Caspian being twins conspiracy.  
But don't mind me...it's 4 in the morning.  
And I'm very sorry if this causes mental anguish. I couldn't help it o.O

* * *

The forest was silent. No blackbirds trilled to their hearts' content in the morning dew; no chattering chipmunks chased each other in the green canopy overhead. Even the busy bees refused to buzz, and the crickets stopped their symphonies mid note. The only sound—apart from the noises that the travelers were making—was the gurgling brook that ran beside the dirt path, babbling warnings if anyone cared to listen.

There was no other warning of the attack. Armed warriors appeared from nowhere and attacked the small band of returning knights. They appeared as if summoned by magic, and they fought as if magic possessed their souls. Although Camelot boasted the bravest and strongest knights in the Five Kingdoms, the armor-clad men soon realized that hope was lost. Prince Arthur hated calling a retreat, but he could easily see that they would not last another moment against these strange assailants.

"Retreat," the acting king shouted, spinning around on his horse to catch every glimpse of action on the impromptu battlefield. "Split up and regroup later," he ordered. He prepared his own horse to flee, but one of the attackers decided to intervene. The burly man swung a heavy mace at the young prince, catching the man's chain mail and sending him flying off of his horse. Disoriented, Arthur tried to gain some sense of location on the ground as the battle spun around him. He ripped his sword from its sheath and plunged it into the chest of the nearest enemy. To Arthur's absolute horror, the blade went in a fatal depth, but it did not affect the man. No blood gushed from his wound—only a thick black smoke curled around the sword.

_Magic…_

Before Arthur has time to warn his men, although they surely must've figured it out by now, a youthful scream pierced the once silent clearing. It was too high to be a knight's, and even as Arthur turns towards the sound, he already knows who made that awful noise. The first thing that Arthur saw was his manservant's sword, lying disregarded on the grass next to the boy's feet. Slowly, Arthur's eyes traveled up the boy's trembling boots and legs, dreading what he would see next. A large blade had been thrust in the dead center of the boy's abdomen, forced so deeply in the thin body that Arthur could see the glinting tip of the sword poke through the back of Merlin's jacket. An expression of complete agony and loss ripped across the boy's features, and Arthur could have sworn that he could see the faint glimmer of tears in the boy's left eye. Despite the raging battle around him, the only thought that was pounding in Arthur's head was the burning desire to avenge his fallen manservant, cursed opponents or not. He didn't notice that when the boy's attacker yanked his sword from Merlin's body, there was no blood on the cursed blade. Nor did the future king notice the blade's disappearance with a flash of light. Arthur only had eyes for his manservant, the pale, shuddering boy who collapsed to the ground as limply as a ragdoll. Dull, glassy eyes speckled with tears stared unseeingly across the battlefield, but Arthur could tell by the struggling rise and fall of the boy's chest that he was miraculously still alive.

Then the manservant's assailant did something completely unexpected—he picked the boy up gently and walked away from the bloody field. Even though he knew it was very unwise, the prince couldn't help but follow the murderer and his beaten prize. It felt as if his own brain and body was possessed by magic; stronger things than will were pulling him after Merlin. He would not have been able to stop, even if it had been his deepest desire to flee.

Arthur didn't know how long he followed the villain and his lifeless manservant. He was barely aware of the sun perched high in the sky. Based on his quick estimations, they had been traveling for well over an hour. Strangely enough, the young prince felt no fatigue. He assumed this was another little "side effect" the enchantment on him had. Only a few moments later, the attacker crashed into a dense pile of leaves, bushes and branches, and disappeared from sight. Having no other choice, Arthur followed the big man, taking care to use the already created path. The prince found himself blinking in a bright clearing. His gaze slowly absorbed everything within the grassy patch, resting for a moment on the huge stone table in the dead center. Intricate dashes and marks served as the plain table's only form of decoration. Although Arthur didn't know what the symbols meant, he knew they were magical.

Suddenly the young man's mind was hit by a strong burst of magic, nearly knocking him unconscious. As the dark poison of magic seeped into his brain, turning his thoughts into sluggish dreams, he could hear disembodied voices floating above his head.

"You were correct, dear sister," a harsh voice rattled. It sounded as if the speaker was in constant pain. "I'm surprised he'd be so foolish to come here."

A scornful laugh and a familiar voice sounded somewhere above Arthur's head. "You do not know him like I do." Although Arthur strained against the magical bonds that kept his brain in a broken mess, he could not fight for long and soon succumbed to the darkness.

* * *

When the magic was lifted and Arthur regained consciousness, he could tell the sun had already set many hours ago. Arthur tried to move, and found out much to his displeasure that his wrists were bound behind him and tethered to an iron ring forced deeply into the soft dirt. He didn't even bother trying to pull free; escape was impossible. The prince instead tried to take in as much of his new surroundings as possible, seeing that he didn't get much of a chance before. Candles were lit in excess and formed a half circle around the stone table. A black shadow was resting on top of the cool stone. Arthur squinted to see what it was and drew back a sharp breath when he realized it was his manservant. The boy was stretched across the table top, limbs and head outstretched to their fullest lengths to form a sort of five-point star. Ropes were wrapped so tightly around the boy's wrists to keep them secure that his fingers were bright red from the trapped blood. Strangely, this sight gave Arthur a slight bit of comfort. If Merlin was still tied up, there was a good chance he was still alive and capable of movement.

"You're up," a cool purr echoed behind the future king. She slowly glided into his line of sight, wearing a long, black dress and her signature blood red cloak.

"Morgana," snarled the young man. "What do you want from us?"

His half-sister smiled a sickeningly sweet smile. "What do you mean? I just wanted a little 'friendly' reunion. Is that too much for a girl to ask?" Her coy smirk infuriated the future king.

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Who else is here?"

Instead of answering the question, Morgana glanced over Arthur's shoulder. The prince could hear the sounds of people breaking through brush and entering the clearing. Slowly, the decrepit Morgause limped into view, followed by a slight figure cloaked in blue. The latter lifted the hood from his face, and Arthur was suddenly staring into two merciless blue orbs.

"Mordred?" Arthur could hardly hide the surprise from his voice. "What are you doing here?"

A light snarl formed on the boy's lips, but he did not answer the future king's question. Instead he turned around and busied himself with making preparations around the stone table. The boy's movements reminded Arthur again of the dying boy on the stone slab.

"What do you want from Merlin? What do you want from me?" The boy thought for a moment. "Whatever your quarrel is with me, release Merlin. He's innocent." This drew a rattled wheeze from Morgause; the deformed sorceress was also preparing for what was about to happen.

Morgana's face was hard and stony. "There is little we actually require from _you,_ dear brother."

"What are you doing then?"

The half-sister to the future king glided slowly to her sister and laid a comforting hand on his hunched shoulder. "My sister has been in constant pain since our last encounter with _him_," she sneered. "I was barely able to keep her from death, but I could not aide her any further to soothe her anguish. Until, of course, I heard my dear Mordred" she smiled sweetly at the boy, who flushed slightly much to Arthur's surprise, "calling in my dreams. He had a way to cure my beloved sister _and_ rid me of my greatest enemy."

"Then kill me now and set Merlin free. Your fight is with me, not Merlin."

Morgana's mad cackle truly reminded Arthur how far his sister had fallen. "Oh, Arthur. You're so vain that you think you're the bane of all existences." Her eyes were hooded, a dark sneer rising on her face. "You're paranoia is almost as bad as Uther's." Then, as soon as it had gone, the reproachful look disappeared and was replaced by the witch's infuriatingly triumphant smirk.

"Then who is your greatest enemy?" Arthur was still confused and a bit offended. "I doubt he has foiled your plans as many times as I have." He was still able to force some humor in a very dark situation.

"Hardly," Morgana returned with her own amused expression. "From what Mordred has told me, you would have been dead several years ago."

Ice flowed through Arthur's veins. "Who is it then?"

"_Emrys_," Morgana spat. Her acquaintances also had varying reactions to the name of the great warlock. Morgause flinched, holding a slightly trembling hand to her scarred face; Mordred narrowed his eyes, though not saying a word.

"Emrys…?" Arthur had heard whispers of a name like that, but never had he believed them. He once questioned Gaius about it after remembering a witch, who had cursed the name for saving Arthur. The old man merely denied ever hearing about the sorcerer, but Merlin, who had been present somewhere in the background, laughed as if that had been the funniest joke he had ever heard.

_Merlin…_

Arthur glanced back to the stone table. His manservant was barely conscious now, watching the entire exchange with drowsy, narrowed eyes. It was clear he was struggling to remain awake; Arthur didn't know if that was because of his mysterious injury or side effects from a magical enchantment.

"If your fight is with this Emrys or whoever he is, take what you need from me, and then release us." Merlin's dull eyes focused slightly when Arthur mentioned Emrys. Arthur felt his gut twitch; clearly the boy knew something about this sorcerer that Arthur didn't know.

"Very well, if that's what Your Highness wants." Morgana had a peculiar expression written upon her face; it was a cross between a smirk and sneer. "I only need a bit of blood from a 'noble' prince, though we both know there's nothing special about your blood compared to any of ours." The sneer became more dominate as the witch slowly slid towards her former friend. A stone knife appeared in the young woman's hand, something faintly familiar about the blade. After a moment of thought racking, Arthur realized that the hilt was decorated with the same symbols that were chiseled into the table. He raised his head proudly, exposing the pink flesh of his neck to Morgana.

"No…Arthur…don't…"A rattled whisper came from the boy on the stone table. Arthur glanced over at his manservant and was surprised to see the boy was relatively awake. Merlin strained against his bonds as he glared furiously at the witch in front of Arthur.

A harsh laugh was ripped from Morgana. "The blood doesn't have to be taken willingly, _Merlin," _she sneered. "I can take as much as I want to make sure it works." Arthur tried to give his friend a weak smile before raising his head again. Instead of feeling a slash across his neck, Arthur felt a thin sliver of pain across his upper arm. He gasped at the cold and looked down to see the sharp blade run swiftly across the skin underneath his chainmail and tunic sleeve. Five beads of crimson dribbled lazily onto the stone blade.

"And I thought you would bleed gold instead," Morgana pulled the knife away, balancing the quivering beads on the razor's edge. Arthur watched a few drops of leftover blood trek their way down his exposed arms, making little red rivulets like the pathways of tears. He looked back at his sister.

"Why didn't you kill me?"

The witch gave him a secret little smile. "I wouldn't want you to miss the show." She turned around and marched to the table. Instead of harming Merlin, which Arthur half thought she would, she bent down and picked up a golden goblet that was had been leaning against a grassy mound. Arthur recognized that as the cup that had given the witch sisters the ability to raise an immortal army. Gaius had assured him that the grail had been destroyed, but there is was, glinting in the pale firelight, a large gash cut across the side. Arthur couldn't look away as Morgana slid the five drops of blood in the magical cup. Merlin was similarly enchanted, his pale face looking rather gaunt as he glared at the gleaming goblet. Something faint dashed across the boy's eyes, and Arthur felt his stomach drop when he labeled the emotion as fear.

"It's impossible; that was destroyed!" Arthur objected.

"Not even the greatest warlock could destroy an item that was made through centuries of ancient magic." The witch shot a dirty look at Merlin. Clearly the two had a past that Arthur was not a part of. Quite frankly, it frightened the future king more than anything else had that day. Arthur watched as the raven haired girl gently led her sister to the edge of the table, leaving the golden cup in Morgause's hand for the moment. Mordred took his place on the opposite side of the stone table, watching his mistress with his captivating blue orbs.

"We only needed three strong magicians here to complete the ceremony," Morgana watched her half-brother's face carefully. "Luckily, there are four present."

Arthur's brain spun in circles before it was finally able to sort through a head count. Morgana, Morgause, and Mordred were obviously all practitioners of sorcery. The future king looked wildly around for the man who had taken Merlin, but he was nowhere to be found. That left only Merlin and Arthur. The prince knew he was no sorcerer, so by the process of elimination, his disbelieving gaze settled heavily on Merlin. The boy refused to glance in Arthur's direction, bleary eyes only watching Morgana. The guilty and pained expression on his pinched face was the only conformation that Arthur needed. His entire posture collapsed as he reconsidered every moment, every conversation, and every secret he had ever shared with the pale manservant. Everything the boy had said had been a lie; his father's words reminded him that Merlin was just as bad as the three villains who had taken the two hostage. Arthur knew he should have been angry, but the current situation made him so tired he just didn't…care. Thinking about it would only hurt, so he stared straight ahead, forcing his blue eyes to see nothing.

"Arthur…" Merlin's hurt plea begged the prince to say something, anything. Even an insult or a screamed curse would have been a treat, but Arthur didn't give the boy anything.

"Isn't that something, Arthur? You've been surrounded by something you've been sworn to hate all your life. I can't think of anyone you know that _hasn't_ used magic before." Arthur steeled his face and ignored the woman's taunts. This whole episode was satisfying enough for Morgana to call the entire night a success, but she had to focus back on the mission at hand for her sister and her destiny. "Enough talk," Morgana suddenly snapped. "We must work quickly before the night ends and the enchantment loses its potency." She caught Arthur's confused frown and allowed one last gloat. "Why do you think Merlin hasn't escaped already? You know he's a magician; he could easily break through those ropes with a glow of the eyes."

"The sword…?" Arthur breathed, replaying the scene where Merlin was stabbed in his mind. When the manservant fell, he looked more as if someone had stolen his spirit than his life. In a way, which Arthur knew he would never understand, he supposed they had stolen the boy's soul. The sword repressed Merlin's magic long enough for them to do what they wanted to do to them.

"You aren't as dumb as people say you are," Morgana's coy smile returned as she walked to the head of the stone table. She reached down to stroke Merlin's white face, her smile only widening as the boy tried to jerk away from her hand. She caught his cheek with a loud slap, the sharp sound echoing in the silent clearing. A dark red hand print stood out vividly against the boy's thin, light face, and his eyes watered slightly.

Morgana raised her thin arms in the air, and a dark chanting poured from her crimson lips. Merlin twisted in his bonds, his forced mask chipping into a grimace of pain.

"Stop!" Arthur stared at his slightly trembling manservant. "What are you doing to him?!" he shouted at them.

Morgana lowered her arms, glancing to the side at Morgause. A grim smile had stretched across the older woman's scared face, terrifying Arthur. "In order to restore my sister's life and ensure our infinite power, a life must be sacr—"

"Take mine instead! Merlin has—"

"A life of a powerful warlock must be sacrificed," Morgana carried on as if Arthur hadn't interrupted her.

"Emrys," Mordred whispered, speaking out loud for the first time that evening. His cold, damning voice sent shivers up the prince's back. This was not the same orphaned druid boy that he had saved many years ago. This child was everything his father had warned him about.

Arthur tried to force a laugh. "You think Merlin is this legendary Emrys or whoever it is? You've made a big mistake. That idiot can barely go up a flight of stairs without tripping." Again the future king replayed past memories. So many impossible coincidences now stuck out—too many to not have been the final product of powerful magic. He finally understood what his manservant meant when he insisted that he had saved his life more than a few times.

"We shall see if _Merlin_ is Emrys. If he isn't, well, he was only a servant," Morgana smiled cruelly as she raised her arms again. The stone knife was in her grasp again, the jeweled hilt throwing unnatural lights across the silent clearing. The momentary calm was shattered by Morgana's dark chanting. After a seemingly endless stanza, the fluty whisper of Mordred and the dry hiss of Morgause joined in as well, creating an ominous choir of death. The hairs along Arthur's bound arms stood on edge as magic filled the air, crackling every so often in the warm heat of the burning candles. Black smoke rose from nowhere and curled around the table, tickling the exposed, white skin of the boy on the stone stab. Merlin arched his back as the magic took effect, biting down so hard to prevent a scream from breaking through that a bead of crimson appeared on his lower lip.

"_Stop! Stop!"_ Arthur strained against his bonds. Never before had the future king ever felt so enraged. Lying sorcerer or not, Merlin was his best friend. He couldn't stand and watch as they tortured him.

The chanting took a darker turn. The smoke wrapped tightly around the poor boy's extremities, securing him to the table as effectively as any chain. A tendril of the deadly fog forced itself into Merlin's mouth and poured down his throat. The manservant tried to fight it, but without his magic and strength, he had already partially given up before the ritual had even started. Merlin thrashed to attempt to free himself from the curling fingers of the smoke, but it was no use. Arthur watched with a horror struck expression as the boy slowly faded from exhaustion, his sudden jerks much less violent and frequent.

"_Fight it, Merlin!"_ Arthur shouted. He knew it was pointless, and the boy probably couldn't hear him anyway, but he just wanted to let the manservant know that he was still there. More than that, he wanted to convince himself that he was trying to do something to save his friend from the hopeless situation.

Morgana suddenly stopped her chanting, although the other two carried on without breaking stride. She pointed to the red scarf on Merlin's neck. Mordred quickly untied it, tossing it over his shoulder without a second thought. Arthur glared at them as the scarf fluttered to the dirt. _How _dare_ they. _Morgana quickly slit the boy's shirt, exposing the scared skin on his chest. Arthur tried not to look too hard at the various battle wounds. One particular burn was so horrendous, it didn't even look possible. _I'll have to ask Merlin how he got that. _Arthur refused to believe that what they were doing to Merlin was fatal. Although his head was swirling sluggishly, he was trying to come up with a grand plan to save the boy. He just _couldn't _let Merlin die.

Next Morgana gestured to Morgause and the golden cup that she was holding. The blond set the cup just under Merlin's ear and leaned it so the cold rim rested lightly against the boy's delicate neck. A shudder ran through the boy's body.

Arthur watched with wide eyes as Morgana lowered the stone knife to Merlin's neck and ran it across his exposed throat with a flick of the wrist. Blood spurted from the wound then morphed into a steady stream that stained Merlin's ivory neck with crimson as it filled the cup. Merlin cried out in pain and shock, his choked gasp turning into a gurgled cough, a few more beads of maroon dotting his gums, lips, and teeth. Arthur knew it wouldn't cause instantaneous death, but from his military training, he knew the boy would soon die from blood loss if the flow wasn't stopped fast enough. Arthur waited in agonizing silence as the red river filled the golden cup to the brim. The prince briefly imagined his few drops of blood mixing with Merlin's much more precious life blood, but he quickly forced away the awful image.

"Stop! You have enough blood!" Arthur begged the three sorcerers. "Please, stop!"

Morgana removed the now full cup from the side of the boy's neck and lifted it high into the air. It hovered in her hands above the heads of everyone in the clearing. With nothing now to catch it, Merlin's blood poured onto the stone table. Arthur watched with horror as the boy's life drained away, soaking the dark grass with crimson.

_No no no no… _

A rough wind forced the trees to shudder as it whistled through the clearing. The witches' hair snapped in the forceful breeze, and a set of candles toppled over, extinguishing themselves on the wet grass.

Mordred and Morgause continued to repeat the first phrase like a broken mantra. Morgana's voice was clear and unwavering as she began the second and last part of the ritual. Arthur couldn't catch any of the words she said over the roar of the wind, the dying coughs of Merlin, and the loud background chanting of the other two sorcerers. All the prince knew was the words that were tumbling out of her mouth foretold death and pain. With her free hand, which was still clutching the blood stained knife, she lifted the blade slowly in the air. The young woman was now screaming to be heard over the deafening gusts of noise around her. Never before had Arthur ever felt so cold or frightened.

Then the knife fell, slowly at first. Arthur watched it, begging the world to release him from the cruel nightmare he was in. The knife sped up quickly, cutting through the air with a high pitched shriek. Arthur couldn't look away as the blade plunged deep into his friend's upper left chest. The wind instantly died away; a harsh scream was ripped from the young warlock, his half-closed eyes fluttering open in absolute agony. The cry sounded even louder in the quiet woods.

"_NO!_" Arthur screamed, throwing himself as hard as he could against the ropes that bound him to the ground. He strained against the cords, not even caring about the pain they caused him. Tears glinted in his eyes as he tried with no avail to free himself to get to Merlin. He could only watch in anguish as his friend's life faded away, and he could do nothing.

Merlin's arms, which had miraculously still been fighting against their magical and material bonds, flopped weakly to the side. One pale hand hung limply over the edge of the stone table like that of a ragdoll. Merlin's mouth parted slightly, and the light in his eyes flickered. Unable to hold on any longer, the boy gave a painful, shuddering gasp and closed his eyes for the last time.

Arthur felt his own spirit leave him at that moment. His determination to escape his bonds caved in on itself, and the young man seemed to collapse from grief. The prince's throat was thick with unshed tears as he stared vacantly as his dead friend with wet eyes.

Morgana merely smiled as she pulled the stone knife from the thin boy's body, setting it gently back on the bloodstained slab. She lowered the cup with both hands and took a brief sip. Her gray eyes flared crimson for a moment, chased soon by a flash of gold. She handed the goblet to Mordred, who also took a drink with the same results. The boy reverently passed the cup to the blonde sorceress, who took it eagerly. The deformed woman downed the contents quickly; the change that took over her features was more violent than those that affected the previous too. Morgause remained silent as her face reconstructed itself, straightening her posture and repairing her broken beauty. All three villains had a healthy glow and golden haze around their skin. Whatever magic they had consumed—whatever they had stolen from Merlin—certainly was working now.

Without a sound, Morgause returned the cup to the stained stone table.

Without a sound, Morgana smiled at her brother, the crimson on her tainted smile standing out starkly against her ivory teeth.

Without a sound, the three magicians disappeared in a puff of black smoke. Arthur's binds fell away, dissolving into nothing.

Without a sound, the prince rushed to the boy on the table, cutting away the ropes that held him to the stone slab.

Without a sound, Arthur pulled his friend's lifeless body to his own. He crushed the thin figure to his chest, feeling his own heart break as if it too had been shattered by the stone knife. The boy's blood had cooled, forming a sticky paste that covered Arthur, but the prince didn't care. He couldn't let go of his friend who was forever gone.

Without a sound, Arthur grabbed the discarded scarf that was crumpled on the ground and tied it gently around Merlin's neck, hiding the ugly, gaping wound. He lowered the boy to the ground, adjusting the light limbs as if Merlin was only sleeping, and he was trying to make the deceased manservant comfortable

Without a sound, Arthur shrugged off his outermost layer of clothing and laid it across the boy's thin and battered chest. He couldn't bear to look at the fatal hole in his heart.

And as the prince looked down at his fallen friend, a sob that was ripped from his soul itself tore from his mouth, breaking the suffocating silence in the dark clearing.

* * *

**Arrgghhhh...  
Again, I don't know why I did this. It's kinda sad... y'know?  
[Pssssst-You guys want a sequel? Let me know!]**


	2. AUTHOR NOTE AND SEQUEL

**Hey, guys! Mac here! Thank you so much for all of the reviews and positive response to this little fic. You guys have almost made me feel sorry for killing Merlin.**

**Almost.**

**Anyway, I just wanted to say, I have decided to write a ****_full_**** story "supplement" to OSKaS. I won't post it on this story, since this could be a stand alone and some of you may not want the ending to change. But if you want to read more Merlin angst with a mourning Arthur and a BAMF Morgana, you're in luck! **

** www **.** fanfiction **.** net** (no space)** s/8473585/1/Stoned**

(If the link doesn't work, you can always find it on my FF page)

**The title is "Stoned"**

**Not as in high off of toxic substances, but where people throw lots of rocks at you. Y'know, the caveman style of execution. **

**Thanks again for being such great readers, and I hope you check out "Stoned" if you were interested in a sequel. I promise it'll be a wild rush...and it'll seriously mess with your heads, so, uh, heads up? :D**

**Mac out!**


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